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Getting it while it's there...
Sep. 7th, 2007 09:12 pmI've experienced two events today that have resulted in my having to reboot my BlackBerry (i.e., remove and reinsert battery). The first was a BSOD thrown by XP, and the second was a garden variety hang caused by... something. In any event, I figured I'd get a post in before the bits in my system rusted into position completely.
In a situation unusual for a Friday, there were no last-minute calls with assignments for Monday. (And yes, there is a slight tenor of complaint in that last sentence... sort of.) This will allow me to devote some serious time to making my presence felt around the place, to prepare for my old man's return (and, eventually, mine).
For the second time in a row, the folks "in charge" at the rehab place directed me to the wrong room. When I got there, my dad was sitting up in a chair, but dozing, so I left a newspaper and went to take care of some errands.
When I got back, he was halfway through the rag, and we chatted for a bit. Then a physical therapist came by, and I took my leave, stopping at the social work office on the way out to learn there was going to be a conference next Friday to assess the old man's progress, and with any luck, I'll hear good news.
On the way home, I spied and stopped at a mom-and-pop pet store in Glen Cove, and as I walked in, there was a beautiful dog named Zoё "guarding" the front door, almost the very spit and image of Shiloh. The owner, who is also the owner of the store, says her dog is an English foxhound, though if I compare her dog to any of the default images that Google spits out for the breed, I'd say Zoё is more of a Catahoula. But then again, you can take what I know about dog breeds, stick it in your eye, and not feel a thing, hardly.
If I have a chance, I shall have to bring Shiloh by the shop, if for nothing else, for the socialization (which means I shall have t make the chance; poor Shiloh hasn't associated with any other living creature since coming to New York).
Cheers...
In a situation unusual for a Friday, there were no last-minute calls with assignments for Monday. (And yes, there is a slight tenor of complaint in that last sentence... sort of.) This will allow me to devote some serious time to making my presence felt around the place, to prepare for my old man's return (and, eventually, mine).
For the second time in a row, the folks "in charge" at the rehab place directed me to the wrong room. When I got there, my dad was sitting up in a chair, but dozing, so I left a newspaper and went to take care of some errands.
When I got back, he was halfway through the rag, and we chatted for a bit. Then a physical therapist came by, and I took my leave, stopping at the social work office on the way out to learn there was going to be a conference next Friday to assess the old man's progress, and with any luck, I'll hear good news.
On the way home, I spied and stopped at a mom-and-pop pet store in Glen Cove, and as I walked in, there was a beautiful dog named Zoё "guarding" the front door, almost the very spit and image of Shiloh. The owner, who is also the owner of the store, says her dog is an English foxhound, though if I compare her dog to any of the default images that Google spits out for the breed, I'd say Zoё is more of a Catahoula. But then again, you can take what I know about dog breeds, stick it in your eye, and not feel a thing, hardly.
If I have a chance, I shall have to bring Shiloh by the shop, if for nothing else, for the socialization (which means I shall have t make the chance; poor Shiloh hasn't associated with any other living creature since coming to New York).
Cheers...
